Tragedy
by Abinikai
Summary: Draco goes home over Christmas break and comes back, knowing that Harry is the only person who can help. But will Harry understand the change in his onceenemy? SEQUEL to Thanks, Draco.


**Summary**: Draco goes home over Christmas break and comes back, knowing that Harry is the only person who can help. But will Harry understand the change in his once-enemy?  
**Disclaimer**: No, sadly, I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making money off of it. If I did own Harry Potter, then Sirius and Remus would be together all the time, Siri-baby wouldn't be dead and Harry'd have multiple love affairs with multiple men (Draco being the first that comes to mind).  
**Notes**: Sequel to "Thanks, Draco." I got bored, my muse was begging and people keep seeming to ask for a sequel to it, so here goes. Bear with me if I try to insert humor where it really isn't supposed to be—I tend not to be that good at writing angst, but this was begging to be written. I would like to add that "Thanks, Draco" is a STAND ALONE fic, and this was not supposed to happen. I am only writing this because I have been begged and I cannot refuse the puppy-dog eyes any longer. However, if I do not like this one, it will be taken off. I still like how the last one ended.  
**Feedback**: Much appreciated and much loved!

* * *

Draco moped about the castle for the next few days, feeling in a decidedly vindictive mood. All that talk with Harry had made him remember those horrid times with his father--and make him dread going back to the house over the Christmas break. He knew his father was there, waiting for him. He knew that his father would want to make him a Death Eater. But he didn't want to be one. First, that horrid mark would mar his perfect skin, and that would be a tragedy in itself. But second and most importantly, he didn't want to be the bad guy.  
  
He knew it was strange, coming from the most-hated (and most respected, he'd like to add) boy in school. But it was true--he didn't want to be a Death Eater. Oh, sure, if you had asked him a year ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity. But now...now...now he didn't want to be on the losing side. The good side suited him just fine.

* * *

Draco was sad to say that his protestations over the Christmas break were not the thing that stopped the Dark Mark from making its home on his arm. It was his sheer venom in addressing the Dark Lord--sure, he knew that talking back to the Dark Lord was not a good thing, and sure, he was damn scared--but that did not stop him. He would not have that damned mark!  
  
Which would be why he was currently writhing in pain on the floor of his father's favorite torture chamber, cursing the day he was born. His father would not kill him, no--that would mean killing his last heir to the throne- -but he would make Draco wish that he was dead anyways.  
  
The only comfort he had throughout the painful sessions was that soon he would go back to Hogwarts, back to goody-too-shoes Dumbledore and back to safety. There, he would ask for Professor Snape's protection and he would never have to go back to this slimy shithole again. He would disown his parents and find something productive to do with his life--other than plot the end of the world as it was known with a bunch of other mask-wearing, Harry-hating, Voldemort-fearing shitheads.

* * *

Draco was relieved to go back to school. His father had placed a rather- painful healing charm on him so that no one knew he had been tortured over the break. So here Draco was, sitting on the Hogwarts Express and reading the latest Daily Prophet, and he was in a much better mood.  
  
At least, that's what he told himself. He wasn't really reading the Prophet- -more like going through the motions. And he wasn't really happy--not at all. His father had raped him...again. The last time he had been too young to realize what was going on until later and his mother had never known. This time, his mother had been forced to watch, along with all the other Death Eaters. They took their part, too, and enjoyed it quite a bit. He was still a bit sore, despite the healing charm.  
  
Draco had asked Crabbe and Goyle to leave him at the beginning of the ride so he would have some alone time. They were dumb brutes--even if they were smart enough to sympathize with him...they never experienced it...they wouldn't understand what it was like to have no control over the intrusion of your body, to know that you wouldn't be able to stop the lust-crazed men.  
  
The only one who could understand that was his worst enemy...and he could never talk to Harry about it. That was done with. He wasn't going to run to his enemy and have a heart-felt conversation just to make himself feel a bit better. That was not the smart thing to do. No, the smart thing to do would be to suck it up and shove it to the back of his mind, like last time. Never think of it, never remember it, until it's barely even a memory.  
  
Which would be why he was writing a letter to Harry asking to talk.  
  
_Meet me where we last talked, same time. Please.  
-DM  
_  
He could only hope that it would work. He could only hope that his friends would not find the letter, or that Harry would think it a terrible trap and not come. He could only hope that it would all be okay.

* * *

Draco sat on the same windowsill that Harry had sat on the last time and waited. He heard the door open and close, but didn't turn around just then. He wasn't sure if he could face Harry...he wasn't sure if he could go through with this.  
  
Finally, after a few moments of silence in which Draco continued to stare out the window, Harry asked, "What do you want, Malfoy? This better not be some joke." It seemed that Harry had recovered from his terrible experience (at least on the outside).  
  
Draco finally turned to look at Harry, and Harry was taken aback by what he saw. Draco's eyes were misted over and his lip was trembling, his jaw clenched in attempt not to cry. His face was a mess and he looked so pale and fragile--Harry immediately felt sorry, and all the venom in his voice evaporated without a second thought.  
  
Without a word, Harry moved to sit next to Draco on the windowsill, leaving a small distance between them. After a moment, he reached out and put a tentative hand on Draco's own hand.  
  
Draco couldn't break eye contact with Harry. Looking into those deep green eyes, he couldn't help but know that Harry understood, that he didn't have to explain a thing. He knew that Harry sympathized and would be there if he needed it...and that was all Draco needed to break down the remnants of his walls. He started crying--not just a couple tears, but streams of salty droplets. They poured down his face and dropped onto his clothes, and he couldn't seem to stop them.  
  
It was one thing to cry in a room all alone, but it was another to cry in the presence of his most hated enemy, the Boy Who Lived. It was somewhat traumatizing for Draco, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like for Harry. Draco hadn't cried in years--he wouldn't let himself. And here he was, opening himself up to Harry Fucking Potter.  
  
He couldn't help but notice that it felt damn good. After a few moments of tears, Draco curled into a ball inside Harry's arms and continued to cry, unabashed. Harry was somewhat surprised, but he didn't want to stop comforting Draco. Draco obviously needed this, and he wasn't going to deny the Slytherin this one comfort.  
  
In indefinite time later Draco's tears finally ebbed and stopped, though he didn't move from his position in Harry's arms. What seemed like an hour, and was probably less than a minute, passed in which it was just him and Harry. Some time during the tears, Draco had entwined his fingers in Harry's and Harry had wrapped his other arm around Draco's waist. Even if it was somewhat disconcerting, it was quite pleasing at the same time.  
  
Finally Draco moved. He lifted his head to look at up at Harry, his eyes still wet and glistening from the tears. Harry couldn't help but notice how beautiful Draco looked in the moonlight, despite the tear-swollen eyes and puffy face. He reached a hand up and stroked Draco's cheek, muttering something that sounded like, "Everything's all right. I'm here," though he couldn't even remember what he said later that night.  
  
Whatever he had said, Draco took a great amount of comfort in it. He slowly inched his face closer and closer to Harry's, and it didn't take long for them to be a hair's breadth away from each other--there hadn't been a great amount of distance in the first place. Harry closed the gap and kissed Draco lightly, tightening his arms to hold him closer. Draco moved himself into a slightly more comfortable position and began kissing back, seeking entrance into Harry's mouth.  
  
It was given without hesitation, and suddenly Draco realized that he was lip-locked with Harry Potter...who he could no longer think of as his enemy. Instead of mulling over this new realization, Draco lost himself in the kiss. Harry's mouth tasted of chocolate again, and it was just as warm and soft as he remembered it being.  
  
Soon the kiss had heated into something else, and clothes had been quickly disposed off. Draco ran his fingers lightly all over Harry's skin, making him shudder in delight. Harry moaned, though he couldn't tell if it was in protest or delight, and he grinned into Harry's mouth.  
  
After they had gone as far as the cramped windowsill would let them, Draco rested his head on Harry's bare chest for a moment and closed his eyes. Harry then placed his chin on top of Draco's head and sighed contentedly. Draco inhaled, taking note of the sweet and sour smell of Harry's body, glistening with a light layer of sweat. Harry traced his fingers in random patterns all over Draco's back, causing Draco to shiver in ecstasy.  
  
Harry broke the silence with a whisper that even Draco could barely hear, though they were so close he could hear Harry's heartbeat loud and clear. "This can't continue, can it?" he asked.  
  
Draco sat up in Harry's lap (somehow he had ended up straddling Harry) and looked back into those emerald eyes. "Probably not."  
  
"We shouldn't go further, should we?"  
  
"Not if we don't want to regret anything." Draco leaned his forehead against Harry's and closed his eyes. "But I'm not sure if I won't regret not continuing."  
  
"But it'd be best to stop now, wouldn't it? Before things get out of hand..." Harry exhaled slowly, trying to calm the erection that refused to be tamed.  
  
Draco paused, unwilling to say what he must. He didn't want to stop this. He wanted to go on, to make love to Harry and lay wrapped in these arms for the rest of eternity. But it wouldn't be smart. He wasn't sure where his sudden change of attitude towards Harry came from--whether it was because they had common ground or because they were just physically attracted to each other--but he knew that the smart thing to do would be to stop, before either of them regretted anything. This way, they would both have a chance to fully examine how they felt to each other, so that they knew fully what they were getting into.  
  
"Yes, we should stop." Draco could feel Harry resign in defeat, and he quickly spoke to mend that. "But not forever. We just...this is so...This is new. And we need to think, we need to clear our heads and truly think about what we're doing. For all we know, this could be pure lust, or just a need for attention. We don't know."  
  
Harry nodded imperceptibly, and if their foreheads hadn't been touching Draco wouldn't have known. "I understand. We'll talk, right? Promise me we won't go back to how we were...I don't care how sudden it was or if it was a mistake. I won't be able to throw insults at you any more."  
  
Draco paused, truly touched at what Harry was saying. "I don't think I could say anything horrid to you, anyways, Harry."  
  
Harry's eyes flew open and his head just jerked up. "What did you say?"  
  
Frustrated, Draco repeated himself. "I said, I don't think I could say anything horrid to you!"  
  
"No, after that!" Draco thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. He didn't understand. "You said my name, Draco. You said my name."  
  
Draco grinned--not a smirk or sneer, but a true smile--and shook his head in amazement. Things had changed so suddenly that Draco had never noticed them change in the first place. This morning, if someone had told him he'd call Harry by his first name, he would have hexed the person into the ground. The only reason he had wanted to talk to Harry was because Harry was the only other person who understood. He hadn't anticipated where that would lead him.

* * *

After a few more drawn out kisses, they untangled themselves and left each other's presence without another word. Draco felt that same longing for Harry's warmth he had felt the first time they kissed and knew that it hadn't been a mistake.  
  
The next day, Draco sat in the Great Hall and studied Harry from across the room. Harry knew that he was being watched, and threw the occasional glance and secretive smile over his shoulder every once in a while, though he had to be discreet about it.  
  
Screw discreetness, Draco decided. He got up and walked purposefully over to Harry. He stood there for a moment, waiting for Harry to acknowledge him, which happened quickly. Harry turned around slowly and met Draco's eyes, then stood up to face Draco properly.  
  
"I was thinking, Harry, about last night. And I realized this: whatever happened, it was meant to happen. I realized that I've wanted it for quite a while. And I realized that I don't want it to stop. It wasn't a mistake, and now that I've thought, I know exactly what I'm doing and exactly what I want."  
  
While the entire school watched in shock, Draco leaned forward and placed a not-so-chaste kiss on Harry's lips; Harry, after a moment of shock, reached his arms around Draco and began kissing back. Draco pulled away and smiled benignly at Harry. "Same place, same time?" Harry's eyes were glossy with joy and he nodded dazedly, still living in the moment of the kiss. "See you then."  
  
As Draco walked out, listening to the sounds of Ron's inarticulate attempts at protest, he realized one more thing. It hadn't been that he didn't want to be on the losing side--that wouldn't have stopped him from becoming a Death Eater. The reason he hadn't wanted to be on Voldemort's side was that he didn't want to be on the side against Harry. That would have been the greatest tragedy of them all.

* * *

Enjoy? There were probably three or four places I could have stopped in there, but I liked that last bit the best. It turned out to be quite a bit happier than I expected, and it was also quite a bit more...well, let's just say I hadn't planned on making it go that way. Not at all. Let me know what you think--please review! I live for my reviews! I don't care if you want to criticize or what, I want to know what you think! 


End file.
